“Don’t eat too much—you don’t want to spoil your appetite,” my mom tells me as I assemble a cracker. “Or your waistline. Now that Lauren is single, maybe you two can goon double dates. You’re not getting any younger, Mandy. I’d like to be a grandmother while I can still walk.”
“A man is not a plan.” I take a bite of my cracker.
“Spoken like someone who refuses to put herself out there and date.” My mom sets coasters out in front of me and Lauren, placing our glasses on them.
“She needs a new bra.” Gran gestures with her glass. “You should take her to Target and get her a new bra.”
“I’m very busy with work—”
“You’re a secretary.” Gran slams her glass on the side table. “Getting a promotion as a secretary means you get married. Preferably before age forty. That’s how I met your grandfather. I was banging him on our lunch break.”
“Mandy does work late.” Lauren breaks off a quarter of a Ritz cracker.
“I am an executive assistant, not a secretary,” I remind my family.
“Well, of course you’re not—you don’t dress like one.” My mother reaches over to tug on the waist of my pants. “I don’t understand why you can’t wear a belt, Mandy. Elastic? Really?”
“It’s comfy. I had a long drive.”
“I just wish you would try a little harder, Mandy. You’re a pretty girl—I can take you to the Macy’s. The gal who works at the counter is very nice—she always give me free perfume samples. She could give you some pointers. She’s a personal stylist on the side.”
In the kitchen, the timer dings.
“Oh, where is Amy? She’s going to be late for dinner.” My mother rushes back to the kitchen.
“Dinner is at two,” my dad says stubbornly.
“Yes, we’re eating at two. Mandy, come get your drink. I saw this new diet-juice blend on Facebook. I bought extra. If you like it, you can take some home.”
“I’ll just have water.”
“You don’t want to try this drink? It’s low-fat.”
“I’ll just have water, Mom.”
I stick my glass under the ice dispenser, filling it up and breathing in the smell of casserole, freshly baked rolls, and home. I wish I didn’t have to go back to the city and my cramped little studio apartment with Jaxon lurking outside, waiting, plotting.
“Your recipes would be so much better without the whole northern hemisphere’s supply of cheese in every dish.” My sister makes a face as my mother sprinkles paprika over the twice-baked-potato casserole.
“I like cheese. It looks delicious, Mom.”
“It’s not my best,” she says with a heavy sigh.
“That’s because you used your mother-in-law’s recipe,” Gran declares, poking a fork into the roast that is resting on the counter.
“Mandy, take that into the dining room, and let your father carve it. Honestly, where is Amy?”
As Lauren and I parade the food into the dining room, Pepper sniffing hopefully at the rear, my father sits down at his place at the head of the table with a full view of his prized lawn through the picture window. He tucks his napkin into his shirt collar and breathes in appreciatively as my mom sets a steaming plate of the gooey casserole in front of him.
“There’s salad in your bowl, Patrick—it’s got that dressing that you like. Mandy, have some more salad.”
The front door creaks open right as I shovel a hot bite of cheesy casserole into my mouth.
“Amy!” my mother cries, wiping her mouth then jumping up to hug my younger sister as she appears in the doorway to the dining room. “We couldn’t wait for you. I’m sorry. You know your father.”
“Engineers like to eat on time,” Amy jokes.
“You look amazing.” Gran is in awe.
